Greenborne
by Bimblesnaff
Summary: What follows is a collection of nonsequitor adventures and mishaps had by the character based upon my character in RuneScape, Bimblesnaff. What you will not find are verbatim accounts of common quests and such from the game. Skip to Ch10 for the real fun.
1. Introduction

It was a quiet night in the realm, not that anyone could really tell if it actually was day or not since the sky over RuneScape always wore black. The drunks at the Rusty Anchor Pub sat weary in their stools, only putting focus in not falling off. Their days, as it would be dubbed regardless of the sun's presence, had each been filled with adventure, but it was all nothing that any given one of them had not heard before. Any war story or marvelous tale was lived before by any of these weathered veterans, and sometimes twice. Armor of the gods which glistened like new despite the myriad of chinks and tarnishes they bore from ages of battle hung on their still bodies, eager for action once more. Weapons and shields that once took honor in slaying great dragons now leaned carelessly against the perches of their intoxicated owners, unattended and unnoticed. Drowning themselves in ale, none even bothered to see who had just passed through the tavern door. 

Three knocks fell on the wooden floor in a repeating series. The off-beat pattern eventually roused one of the patron's curiosity and earned a quick glance. Lowering his head back down, the man jumped from his stool once his clouded thoughts finally processed what they had seen. Leaving his place with a surprising amount of alertness, given his intake, he relocated to the opposite side of the bar. His neighbors were far less inquisitive, barely noticing the fellow betwixt them parting and certainly not caring why. The triad of thuds continued approaching the bar. In the void left by the fleeing one, a regal colored, worn glove, bearing a brilliantly dazzling diamond ring in contrast to its surroundings, deposited a small stack of coins, marred with mud and blood. The two men were frozen, not daring to breath as the barkeep pulled up half a dozen mugs. Sweeping them up in one arm, the figure turned and exited, knocking his staff on the planks as he departed. After hearing the doors swing close and the three part gait no more, the two men sighed with great relief. 

"Ay, what is your problem, fellows?" a man next to one of the relieved questioned, pondering their reaction. The color in their faces was returning, but they were still too scared to answer. Looking back over his shoulder, the further man wanted to be sure the individual had, in fact, parted. Turning his eyes back to the inquirer, he gave no verbal response. With a very slight gesture of his hand, he rose each of his digits straight up, all but the last, the little finger. Having gotten his answer, the man, too, became shaken, as did any other who peeked in at what they were discussing. The man who had just left their presence was none other than the Four Finger Fiend, Bimblesnaff Greenborne.

* * *

What follows is a collection of adventures and mishaps had by the character _based_ upon my character in RuneScape, "Bimblesnaff". What you will not find are verbatim accounts of common quests and such from the game. As said in the prologue, that's been done. These are tales based on RuneScape, not tales that exist on RuneScape, which, really, isn't that the point of fanatic works such as these? 

Shortly after starting to play RuneScape, just over a year ago, I developed a unique and compelling story behind my character to make him not just another random face in the crowd. This personality eventually grew into a very intriguing and original character, which slightly varied from my in game activities. The character is quite known and feared while, as a player, I am unknown and quite kind, usually performing services for others out of good will. And, I do not mean, "Sure, I'll cut those gems for you free of charge," I mean, "Why just cut? I'll turn them into enchanted amulets! ... for free!" However, his roots are still remembered, and I do not tread far from them.

* * *

Ode to Bimblesnaff 

His teeth are dull, his eyes are small. His ears are stout, his nose is tall.   
He may stand out from his kin, Standing straight with pasty skin.   
He may bleed red but his heart is green, Like no other goblin e'er seen.   
What humans cast aside, Two goblins did decide,   
To raise him as their own, And eat him once he had grown.   
Shortly, they came to see, The greatness within he,   
To be the enemy, Of his own humanity.   
His figure gaunt, His laugh shall haunt.   
He lusts for gold, As legends told.   
Human born, He was forlorn.   
But goblins cared, His life was spared.   
The greatest their race shall e'er know, To the realms of Runescape he shall go.   
Brandishing bow and mystic staff, Came the scourge known as Bimblesnaff.

* * *

Anatomy of Greenborne 

For visual reference, head to toe. 

Bimblesnaff is a gaunt male, standing tall and quite thin. In conjunction with his complexion, he could be mistaken for a corpse. His hair is a ruddy shade of orange, and greasy lochs hangs from his scalp to his shoulders unstyled in all direction. His beady, violet eyes are overshadowed by his heavy brows, nearly always lowered in anger or brooding. His nose stands tall over his long face, jutting out only shortly to a sharp point. His mouth is near lipless and is either devoid of emotion or smiling fiendishly, flashing his off-white teeth. A pointed goatee whisks off his slightly jutting chin. He never extends to his full height, tending to slump and stoop whether standing or walking. 

A plain, white, linen shirt adorns his body, covered by an open, brown trimmed, green jacket tied off about the waist with a simple belt. Latched to this is a pouch of seemingly infinite space. The collar is never folded down and is typically neighbor to a tattered, purple cape. Also looped around his neck is a holy symbol, the Silver Star. The cuffs at the end of the sleeves open wider than necessary, hanging loosely off his wrists. Purple, four fingered gloves cover his hands and all his visible forearm. His pants are simple and plain purple cloth that loosely fits to his legs, flaring at the feet, which are covered in a pair of sturdy, leather boots. 


	2. Four Finger Fiend

The Four Finger Fiend 

"Enter, my son," the elder spoke, waving in the youth. "There is much we have to discuss." 

"Ah, geez, Glukgluk," whined the young one as he stooped into the dimly lit hut. "Dinna we already have that talk?" 

"No, my child," corrected the chieften. Pausing, he touched his chin in thought. "And we never did have a 'talk'." 

"Really? ... aw, so that's why I got it all messed up," rambled off the youth. The elder stopped him. 

"Please, my son. I have grave things to tell you of," implored the wizened one. "I must tell you, first, that I am glad we found you, and made you one of us. You have made a much better goblin than you would have a meal." The younger of the pair smiled devilishly, flashing his sharper than human teeth in a way one of his race never could. "You, truly, are no longer of that foul breed. I am proud of you." When he was found, his eyes shone with the most brilliant shade of blue. Now, they were dull and murky with more of a violet hue. His skin was closer to grey with a sheen of green about it rather than the rosy pink he was born. His bones and limbs were twisted, bulging out from his malnutritioned flesh. The life of a goblin, their ways, their environment, and, mainly, their diet had taken a toll on his body. The toxins from the swamps and other things that normal men fear had been his upbringing. Even other humans treated him like a green skin, from both his scent and presence. 

More impressive than his transformation was his commitment. Raised in a village frequented by those loathed by humanity, he was the end to much hate and malice. He countered this, however, by being more monstrous than the monsters themselves: crueler, more viscous, and more heartless. To ultimately prove that he was not a weak "pinkling", however, drastic measures were taken. Most all of the vile folk and fiends had a single trait in common: they did not have five fingers, a characteristic of humanity. This problem was solved with a hatchet and several bandages, but the horrible thing about it was that no one made him do it. No one even suggested such a ludicrous act to him. Needless to say, such a procedure performed in solitary is not precise, leaving his hands hideously scarred. To hide the deformity, from that day on, he always wore a pair of purple gloves, which were taken from a corpse he made on a highway, that he modified for his number of digits. 

"Despite your valor among us," continued the goblin chieften, "I am afraid that you have outgrown us." 

"What do ya mean, Elder?" implored the once human before understanding. "No, I think I understand. This is but one realm, one, small place fer me to grow and spread hate, but the world is wide. I must go out and seek other lands, bigger lands, with more people to inflict. I must teach 'em all to fear us!" His eyes sparkled, lost in his vision of bane. "I will go, Elder, and I shan't disappoint." Springing to his feet, his head broke through the ceiling of the hut. 

"... um, actually," humbly informed the elder, "I meant you had outgrown us literally. Our huts are built too low for you, and we can't keep repairing these holes." As the human child pulled his head out of the hole, he knelt back down, recomposed. "We shall, though, give you something to remember your home by, young one." The youth smiled widely, his mind bounding with glittering images. "We shall give you a name." At that, the images crashed. 

"But... I already have a name, dun I?" pondered the man. 

"Fredrick?" The old goblin laughed. "That is your man name. It is marred with weakness, just like the ones who passed it to you. You deserve one more fitting." Picking up a ceremonial wand, he waved it about. "I confer upon you the title Bimblesnaff." Fred smiled at his new name. In the ancient goblin tongue, it meant "the disaster". "Additionally, you will need a name of association and family. You will not be able to use your tribe as claims out there, as none would know of our quaint village out in the big world. I will give you a name so that all will recognize your upbringing. You may have humans as parents, but we gave you life. Thus, your surname shall be Greenborne." 

"Bimblesnaff Greenborne," the newly named man stated with delight. "'Twill be a name well known, Elder, and ya will be hearin' o' it again, soon." Bowing, he got up to leave and embark on his new life, but not before causing more structural damage with his cranium. 

"Dammit, stop standing up in here!" cursed the old goblin. 


	3. Mishaps with Gender

Mishaps with Gender 

The fiend leaned against a large stone, eyeing the passersby from beneath the brim of his pointy hat. A cool breezed flared up his regal cape, tattered and aged as it was, being quite refreshing. More throngs went by, and he waited in solitude, tapping a finger on the rock impatiently. 

"Where is she?" With a flash, a being manifested before him. Bimblesnaff threw his arms up in praise. "Thank ya! I've been waitin' fer -" 

"Greetings, matey!" cried out the manifested figure, shorter and much fatter than the one he had anticipated. 

"What the? Ya ain't Z'lupe," the lunatic angrily stated the obvious. "At least I hope ya ain't, elsewise ya have really let yerself go to hell." 

"Nay, friend," dismissed the stout dwarf, pulling his hands from behind his back. "I bring tidings of good will!" Sticking a heel on the short man's brow, Bimblesnaff thrust with this leg, knocking the dwarf down. That would have been the end of it, but the maniac had, and now glad of it, chosen a spot on a hill. The rotund man tumbled down, bowling over adventurers with his girth. The gifts he brought still cycled in the air and were snagged before gravity got the best of them. Bimblesnaff would never let harm befall free food, especially not to beer. As he munched on the kabob and downed the spirit, a second figure appeared in a flash. This one carried the correct height and apparels with them. 

"Ah, 'bout time ya got here," praised the fiend. "Ya wun believe how many weirdos I've punked off while waitin', Kelly." Squinting his beady eyes, he sputtered, "Hey, wait a second here. What's goin' on? Why are ya a... a..." 

"Guy?" the man who bore resemblance to the Greenborne's female friend answered. "Well, 'Snaffie, I was just getting tired of all the bad passes people kept makin' on me," he innocently explained in a far from masculine fashion. "And a crazy wizard was offering a special on body reconstruction, so... I bit. Plus, I like how my cape hangs on me in this form." Turning around Z'lupe demonstrated his new found love in his cape. "Wee, look at it go!" Bimblesnaff was less enthusiastic. 

"Bah! This won't do at all. We can't be two guys walkin' 'round the place. What would people think?" Sliding up closer, he whispered, "What if someone over heard us?" Just then, two strangers rubbernecked the pair and snickered maliciously to each other. "That's it! This is gettin' fixed now." Casting aside his cloak, he reached down into his belt pouch and removed a staff that should not have been able to fit in such a small space. 

"Oh, no you don't, 'Snaff," disagreed Z'lupe of Kelly. "I'm not changing just to make you feel comfortable." Tossing some decorated stones into the air, he thwacked them with the staff, causing them to stick along the shaft. 

"Dinna say ya would be the one changing," corrected Greenborn before he started to chant. The markings on the pieces began to glow, as did the head on the staff. In a ball of energy, Bimblesnaff vanished from sight only to return mere moments later. 

"Please don't tell me," Z'lupe begged with his face buried in his hand, "I'm too afraid to ask." Finally working up the courage to peer through his fingers, he was sorry for it. Before him stood Bimblesnaff, but not the Bimblesnaff he had grown familiar with. 

"This is just freaky," chirped the lunatic, shocked by the sound of her own voice. "I cun believe I was hit on five times in the first minute I became a woman. I really feel bad fer ya." 

"You don't actually plan on staying like that, do you? You make one ugly woman," added Z'lupe. 

"Of course I dun," swiftly replied the woman wearing green. "I would miss m' beard too much. I have the receipt, anywise. I'll get it switched back in a few, but, until then, tell me how pretty I am." Batting her eyes in the former woman's face, he rolled his. 

"Fine, I'll go switch back," declared Z'lupe, defeated. "Just... stop doing that. It's freaky." 

"Ya're mean," pouted Bimblesnaff playfully. "Just fer that, ya ain't gettin' any o' this." She followed up by running her hand down her side. "... Ew, I just went too far. Yeah, okay, I'm comin' with ya to get changed back." 

"And let us never speak of this again," ordered Kelly. 

"Agreed." With a snap of her fingers, the two were before Makeover Magician. 

"Hey, what gives?" demanded Z'lupe. "Where was all the show from the last teleportation?" 

"Ah, geez, c'mon, doll," sputtered out Bimblesnaff as she opened the sorcerers's door. "You were already impressed once. 'Tis not gonna impress 'gain." With that, they had their bodies properly restored, and Z'lupe was passed at thrice before even leaving the wizard's home. 


	4. Scourge of All Lands

Scourge of All Lands 

A young girl twisted around a map, trying to figure out which way it was suppose to face. Confused by its orientation, she tapped a nearby man on the shoulder. The cloaked individual turned about, letting her words fall upon deaf ears. None of her pleas or questions were heard, for he was only sizing her up for value and ease of slay. Drawing back his hood, the masked man smiled vilely as he pulled out his rapier. With a shriek and bolt, the chase was on. The highway robber was unfortunately very skilled at his task and gained upon the innocent one quickly. As his hand reached out to snag the red cape that trailed behind her, he became choked on his own collar. 

"Now, now, now," a grim voice croaked from behind him, "play nice." Facing his harasser, the rogue found his own cloak within someone's clutches, someone's purple, four fingered clutches. His eyes traveled up the green sleeve and became trapped at the god star adorning the assailants's chest. This was as far as the thief's examination proceeded as, with a single swing of his arm, the defender brought up and down an oversized war hammer with the villain's head in its path. With no life left in it, the body of the robber withered away to bones and a few measly belongings he had left to this world. Expecting thanks for the rescue, Bimblesnaff looked up to find the victim no where in sight. He had done a good deed for a lady, however, and that was reward enough. If only there was some way he could deal with the _real_ scourge of all lands: the roaming jackass. 

"Ugh, 'Snaff, can you read me?" The message resounded in Greenborne's mind. Recognizing the voice, he tapped the crystal set on his ring and solidified the mental bond betwixt them. 

"What's the matter, Z'lupe?" he psychically relayed her. "Someone need to die?" There was a pause for curious thought. 

"No, probably not," she rationed, "but it might come to that. If you could, would it be possible to stop by the fountain in Varrock Square for a bit?" 

"'Tis an odd request," replied the fiend, "but I guess I could stop by." 

"Great," she sinisterly squealed. "Oh, and bring your armor." 

"The rune armor? Agh," the lunatic gagged, "but that junk weighs a ton. I can barely move in it. I only really got it to look bad ass." 

"Exactly," agreed Z'lupe, "so be there soon." His tap into her thoughts was severed, and soon the only voices in his head were the several normally there. 

With a sigh, the maniac in green wisked himself away to the city of Varrock. Stopping off at the bank, he donned his most invulnerable suit of mail, crown to sole, and waddled off to the fountain. Fighting through the dense crowd was a feat given that he could only really walk in a straight line, and that was difficult enough. Ignoring the several beggars who had time to squander but not work, the offered barters which suggested his great treasure was worth their stash of flimsy bronze armors, and even one plea to be someone's boyfriend, a proposition he was initially interested with until he realized it was not extended by a woman, Bimblesnaff proceeded to the center piece of the square and leaned against the fountain's base to create the illusion that he was standing. Posed like a statue, he examined the crowd for his requester. 

"Act like you don't see me." The words cut through the commotion of the bustling area. Sweeping his gaze through his narrow slits in his visor, he spotted Z'lupe and, to his ire, someone else: a male. As the two drew closer, Greenborne focused in on their discussion. 

"Come on, baby, let me be your man," squeaked the novice who walked with Kelly. Unkempt, blue hair stuck out from all angles on his head as though to mimic some sought fashion and fail at it. His dull iron breastplate showed about as much skill in its crafting as he possessed. The most expensive looking piece of equipment he carried was a meager, black scimitar, which sadly contained the bulk of his net worth. "I am the perfect guy for you." 

"Okay, hun," coyly giggled his querry in a false voice, "but, first, you'd have to beat my current boyfriend." 

"That's it? Bring him on," boldly declared the lad, holding his curved blade up high, ready to take on the world. 

"I'm so glad you said that," she squealed with glee before dropping the artificial tone, "because he's standing right here." Pointing to Bimblesnaff with her thumb, the novice's neck craned slowly to behold, what to him, was a force of death. Recognizing a cue if any, the lunatic rose up a single arm halfway to greet him with a warm wave delivered coldly as he slung his enormous war hammer up on his other shoulder. The youth did not know what to do and could not think of anything. It showed for he actually did not do anything. He merely stood frozen, fear struck and dumbfounded. 

"So, doll, wanna get outta here?" slyly suggested the armored fright. 

"Let's." Wrapping her arm around his, the two left the town square. After a while of laughing at their stunt, she cast an eye back. "Yeah, he's still standing there. I think you can drop it now." 

"Oh, thank the Silver Star," lauded the disaster, his armor falling from his body as he collapsed to his knees. After catching his breath and wiping off the sweat from his soaked head, he recomposed himself dignantly and started collecting the bits and pieces from the ground. "So," he started to ask with a crooked smile, "does this mean I'm yer boyfriend?" She gave off an annoyed grunt. 

"You wish," mocked the girl before walking away. 

"Yes," pathetically agreed Bimblesnaff as he chased after her with burden filled arms. "Yes, I do." 


	5. Something Deeper

Something Deeper 

The clangs of metal on rock filled the silent night in succession. A pickax fell upon the breaking stone with furious blows until it weakened enough and cracked. The rubble fell to Bimblesnaff's leather clad soles, and he sifted through the dirt to examine the contents. Gleaming mithril ore caught his eye through the chaff yet was met with a disappointed sigh, although still pocketed. Kicking away the waste from his dig into a growing pile from his day's labor, the lunatic brought up the pick again and smashed it against the metal vein. The pile stirred at the clashes, rumbling at the sound as if pained by them. The pebbles and bits rose up, taking a vaguely human shape. The lumbering figure leaned its massive body over the miner, gently tapping him on the shoulder with its giant finger, a ginger motion that nearly cracked his collar bone. 

"Excuse me, sir," politely asked the brute in a grating, thunderous voice, masking its intentions, "but the earth to which you carve is the residing place of my spirit." Greenborne cast a less than impressed eye over his shoulder while continuing the pounding. "I am bound to it. If you cause further harm to it, I will cease to be." After seeing that the golem had nothing left to say, the maniac turned his head back forward, and resumed his prior task. "Very well, then, sir. You leave me no choice." Pulling back its jagged fist, the guardian of the soil smashed the stony appendage into the human's back. It collided with a mighty explosion of bits and shards, but the toiling was uninterrupted. Turning around, Bimblesnaff held up the ornament strung around his neck. 

"Oh, so you are a disciple bestowed his protect?" realized the elemental force upon seeing the glow around the Silver Star. "Even his divine intervention will not save you forev-" The lunatic slid off his green jacket, revealing the brown robes donned beneath. "I see," resumed the giant in speech, "but that still won't-" Reaching into the small pouch abut his waist, Greenborne pulled out a long handle that ended in a wicked, spiked ball of metal. Well versed in all things of the earth, he knew its make. "But even that-" Stretching out his other arm, a bottle rolled out from his sleeve. Taking a swig of the viscous, golden solution, the man glared at the earthen titan with a malicious gleam. 

"Party time," the maniac announced before unleashing an unbridled fury upon the creature of the crags. Little by little, the series of blows knocked chips out of the solid hide as the golem helplessly struggled against its assailant. Changing his aim to the tiny legs that kept the monstrously sized beast up, one quickly shattered and the rock man toppled. Standing on top of the downed victim, the flesh man turned his mace upside down and drove it into the stone chest until the very core that held the construct together was broken in tatters. Flattening out the remains with his weapon, he looked to see what was left of his kill. Spotting a dull shine, a gloved hand shot into the mess and pulled out a rough gem. 

"Finally!" Greenborne exclaimed in relief, holding his treasure high. Twisting his face peculiarly, he studied the object closer. "A sapphire? Ah, dammit!" Grumbling, he slipped this disappointment into his pocket with all the others and resumed his search. 


	6. Just Checking

Just Checking 

"Death will come from above, the earth will tremble, the waters will run as blood, and the world will be no more," the sinister mage cried out with glowing fists held in the air. "It is what we seek to cause. It is what we live for." 

"But dun ya kinda live in that world?" Bimblesnaff shouted, just out of reach from any foul magicks, while comfortably sitting upon a stone with one leg swinging freely. 

"... Yes," the quiet answer came, "but it must be destoryed!" 

"And destroy yerself in the process?" The Four Finger Fiend sighed. "Really dinna think that one through before signin' up with the Dark Druids, huh?" Rolling back his sleeves, his wrists glistened with the emerald scales of a kill made some time back. "Well, if ya wanna die, my dark friend, if ya really want it all to end..." Pulling back the top to his belt satchel, a bow sprung out and into his waiting grasp as a shaft was quickly met to the string. "... I can help ya." The arrow soared straight for the grim wizard, right for a kill shot. Moments away from puncture through his eye, the mage made a quick dodge, saving his life. 

"Hah! You call that killing?" he mocked his foe, who was not even bothering to fire another volley. Already packing up his equipment, Greenborne was leaving the battle with a whistled tune filling the air in merriment. "Yeah, you know you cannot take on our dark powers! We are mighty, and... dark! ... I am _so_ dark. I have, like, dark robes and stuff. Evil am I!" Not bothering to listen to a pathetic word, Bimblesnaff was using the song as timing. At a certain part, he rose his hand and snapped his fingers. The wizard was puzzled until he saw how _dark_ it was getting. This was all he saw since he did not have enough time to turn and see the standing stone behind him, knocked off balance by the thought stray arrow, falling onto and crushing his body. 


	7. Only the Best

Only the Best 

"Greetings, fellow great and strong warrior," an overly enthusiastic and heroic voice called out. "I trust you seek membership to our fine establishment for only the greatest and most proven champions of the realm." The words sparked an interest in the lunatic, although not the kind thought by the guild master. 

"Proven, say ya?" inquired the maniac with a sly grin. "And what labors must one complete to claim this honor?" 

"Oh, only the greatest known," assured the hero. "Why, in one venture, ingredients for a cake must be collected. Another involves cross dressing." He laughed heartily. "Yes, they are tales that will live around the fireside for ages to come." Although his smile stayed, Bimblesnaff's brows arched with unease. 

"Ya're... ya're just a sadistic bastard, ain't ya?" The broad side of his head was met with the broad side of a sword. 

"Hush, fool, else you will spoil my fun," the alleged hero whispered. 

"Well, then, I guess the reward fer paradin' oneself around as an ass must be pretty invitin' if ya ever got anyone to join this 'fine' establishment." 

"Oh, quite," bolstered the man, returning to his loud tone. "Why, we have a chicken coop _of legend!_ And a stove... _of legend!_ And this fine door which keeps out the knaves." 

"I assume the door is o' legend, too?" flatly questioned Greenborne. 

"No, unfortunately it is not," sadly told the guild master. "Apparently, they only let you have two legendary objects in one building. I just do not understand this land's building codes at all!" 

"There's a lot of things I dun really get about here," muttered Bimblesnaff while walking away. 


	8. Local Threat

Local Threat 

"Excuse me, sir, but there is somethin� evil lurnkin' in these parts," Greenborne shouted, barging into a man's house. "'Thas been suggested that ya get someone to keep ya safe." 

"What? Oh, dear me!" 

"Dun ya worry," the green coated man soothed, "as long as I am here, they wun get to ya." Locking the door, he barricaded it with some nearby furniture. Not long after, there came some furious knocking on the door, but, then, came a voice familiar to the resident. "Oh, by the way, 'they' referred to the help." 

Still beating harshly on the door, the sentry cried out, "Excuse me, sir, but is everything okay in there. Foul things have been afoot." The door, after some clatter, slid open and revealed Bimblesnaff. 

"What's this racket now? I was already quite aware o' the threat at hand," he steamed. "Makin' me have to open the door to have to speak with ya is just makin' me more vulnerable to the danger!" 

"Forgive me, sir," sternly pleaded the guard, "but it was my orders." Shortly after turning to check the next house, he realized that was not the man who normally resided in that cottage. As the thought came to him, however, there was already a clatter of shattering glass and maniacal laughter fading in the distance. Dashing into the structure, he found the place entirely ransacked and a few bones sticking up from the dirt floor. "Well, damn," cursed the centurion. "I really should have recognized him from the last time he did this," he mentally noted, "if not the dozen times before..." 

"Geez, Steve, again?" a colleague questioned, coming up from behind. "You�ll be fired this time, for sure." Frowning, Steve retrieved a mug of ale from his possessions. 

"Oh, look at this," he awkwardly stated, "I have some ale. I wonder who should get it?" 

"What is your problem, Steve?" again asked the other guard before a blitz of fire turned him to ash and the mug was taken away by unseen forces. 

Clearing his throat, Steve cried out with sincerity, "On, no! The evil forces have struck again, and even one of our own was no match for him." 


	9. Fellow Foes

Fellow Foes 

The fortess of the Dark Warriors teemed with marauders, but not just those native to the wicked structure. Chains glistened in the dim torch lit as a wary adventurer walked the dark halls with his blade drawn, alert for anything. Passing by a dark corridor, he thought he witnessed two faint lights. Checking back, the tiny points vanished. They could have been eyes. It was a small, narrow hall that led in a dead end. Trusting his sword forward with a fierce shout, the point clattered against only the stone in the darkness, no flesh, no foe. Rubbing his eyes, trying to rid whatever spell currently beset them to see such tricks, the more cautious treasure seeker turned to leave the corridor. As he did, the two dots in the dark returned, just where they were before. Silent laughter poured out from the sinister grin that, too, shone in the shade. These vile teeth, however, appeared _above_ the eyes. 

With his legs spread out and locked into the corners of the wall and ceiling and his arms pressed firmly to the walls, Bimblesnaff had been waiting some time for suitable target to pass his trap. Swinging down to the floor without a sound, Greenborne crept like a spider between the shadows, working his way to his victim. As he drew closer, he slowly attached his battle armor, piece by piece. With hammer and shield ready, he pulled out the last ingredient for his assault. Speaking the abysmal words, the retrieve stones vanished as a bolt of dark forces lept from his body to that of his prey. The magic forces surged through the man's body, weakening his very soul. With a feral yell, the lunatic charged with his war hammer falling fast to make short work of the brave soul. 

Things would be tougher than originally thought, however, as the heavy head only clashed with the stones of the floor. Quick thinking had gotten him out of the way for the first try, but Bimblesnaff was not so sure luck would side against him twice. Before the hefty maul could be lifted from the hole, the warrior in chain stood upon it as his own weapon sprung for a strike. The blade was deflected off a rising shield, glowing with divine grace. The protection of the Silver Star would help the maniac some in this battle, but he and his foe knew that even the gods tended to keep their presence out of the acursed and bloodied Northern lands. Plowing forward with the same shield, a windmill motion brought the war hammer back down upon its target. Catching the force of the blow against his vest, his arms folded in upon his wound. Laughing madly for having scored such a tremendous blow, the merriment was soon spoiled by the other's laughter. 

"It's chain mail," he mocked, still refusing to relinquish the weapon pressed against his chest. Pulling back his head, he smashed the rounded helm against that of his enemy's. After repeated blows, the visor began to dent. With both of here ears ringing madly, the madder of the two braced the shaft of his sledge and charged forward, crashing its captor against the opposing wall. Dust from years of settling billowed from the cracks, masking the air. Under the veil, the two became separated, but each could still feel the others presence in the area. The bout was not over. 

A blade cracked against the back of Bimblesnaff's plate mail, a blow he could have avoided. Well aware of the footfalls heading towards him, the risk was taken to land a more solid hit. As his foe approached, Greenborne slung the great hammer over his head, arching the massive, metal block around behind him, crushing the warrior between the plate armor and the weapon. Pressed flat against his assailant's back, the victim wrapped himself around the lunatic, locking his arms and legs around the stiffly armored limbs. Straining the extremities with immense force, the maniac flailed madly, crashing against walls and the floor, trying to shake the man from his back. Grinding him up against a corner, the two again parted from each other and collapsed breathless to the floor. 

"Wow," the fiend in green wheezed, "we're... pretty evenly matched." 

"I'll say," surprisingly agreed the other. Panting a few more times, they lunged at one another with their weapons in a fury. Their limbs shortly fell victim to exhaustion, and soon they were crashed, breathing hard, on the floor. "Okay, this isn't getting us anywhere." 

"Obviously," blatantly told Bimblesnaff. "We'd never be able to kill each other." 

"However," mused the other, "we could probably kill someone else..." Greenborne rose a brow. "Think about it, we're about equal. If we found someone else with as much skill, we could easily overcome them together. What do you say? Fifty-fifty?" 

"Dibs on any runes," the maniac grinned. "Name's Bimblesnaff Greenborne. And yer moniker?" 

"Skate Boy 300." The answer was met with an odd glance. "My family has kept the name for a long time. Once it went past six, no one in my family wanted to stop carrying it." 

"But what's a 'skate'," the lunatic questioned. 

"A fish thing, I think," the uncertain answer came with a scratch on the head. "People always get them confused with Sea Bishops, which the first Skate Boy was said to have as a father." 

"Huh. So that's some special blood line yer carryin' on," declared the fiend. Skate Boy 300 nodded. The lunatic then knew that, once the two found an appropriate target, he would have to team up with the new victim to finish off the legacy of the fish man. 


	10. To Doom

To Doom 

The bleak, unforgiving sky stared down onto the harsh, blank expanse. Two figures transversed the horrible terrain. Leading the pair, a tall man holding a regal colored cloak over his face shielding it from the sands in the wind. His dangling coif rippled in the strong gusts. He pushed through the current with his bare body, armed in nothing but the green jacket on his back and the medallion on his neck. Trudging through the violent sands, the one who followed him was showing less struggle. A white haired woman, spread out wide and wild, wearing little if any armor, a chain top that eluded her slender waist and short, chain skirt. Her arms bore more metal than her body, with each fortified in a steel bracer from wrist to elbow. To one locked a shield bearing the mark of her family, Kelly, the rampant enfield. Behind the taloned beast was emblazoned her own, personal flare, the Z to which she was mysteriously affiliated. 

"What are we doing out here?" whined Z'lupe, stooping in her gait. 

"Seekin' adventure," shortly answered Greenborne through his upheld cape. 

"Can't we do that somewhere with less sand?" She now leaned crashed upon the maniacs back to hold herself upright. 

"For the last time, we must do this," Bimblesnaff sternly insisted. "It's part of my scavenger hunt." Pulling out a piece of paper, he pointed to item twelve: a perilous adventure with sand. Staggering up a towering dune, the lunatic stopped at its peak, throwing his arms out and shouting in triumph, casting his cloak out wide in the wind, this moment being the sole purpose he wore a cape on this travel. "We're here," he declared. "We have finally reached the Doom Dune." 

"Doom Dune? How come I never heard of those before?" demanded Kelly. The green coated man smacked his head in disbelief. 

"Because they are fan made," he talked down to her for her ignorance on the matter. Her face twisted to a demeanor more bewildered. "Ya know the giant, Gnomish fans meant to cool down the desert towns. Ya can even see 'em from here." Pointing to the edge of the horizon, lumbering structures bearing whirling blades spun and vortexed the grains that plagued them into the air. 

"Oh yeah, _those_ fans," she remembered. "I took the tour. They're pretty neat inside. One of them has a gift shop." 

"Really? Get anythin' good?" questioned the Four Finger Fiend, completely setting aside the task that needed completed. 

"Oh, I got the these. They are the cutest things," Z'lupe chimed equally as absorbed before stopping herself from lifting her skirt. "No, wait, I... shouldn't show you them..." Nodding slowly, Greenborne reached into his jacket pocket. 

"Note to self," he spoke into his hand, "sell women's underwear." 

"Why are you talking into your hand?" a yet again puzzled Z'lupe inquired. 

"No reason," he pouted, dropping his empty hand to is side. "It helps me remember thin's, I guess." It, in fact, did not, which is why he preferred the method to his previous use of the memory frog. It did not take long for him to realize that his thoughts were not worth keeping recorded. 

"Note: That chick I saw on the road today was _hot!"_

"Note: That other chick I saw on the road was also _hot!"_

"Note: I have a court hearing for lewd conduct towards the public in the morrow." 

"Note: The judge is totally _hot!_ What? Yes, I'm aware a trial is takin' place." 

Additionally, it came to his attention that living things needed fed more than once in their life. This came to his attention through maggots. In his defense, he would have noticed its passing sooner, but the stench of death was regarded by many as a personal improvement to the goblin raised. 

Wandering between the mounds with stealthy steps, Greenborne slink with arms raised, posed to strike at any threat that would reveal itself. Opposing him, Kelly strode along the sands in sweeping steps, thumping as swung her body haphazardly. 

"What's even in this place?" complained and questioned Z'Lupe in the same sentence. "And why would anyone want to go to a place with 'Doom' in its name?" 

"Just anyone with half a brain," justified Bimblesnaff with his half a brain. "Places o' Doom, Death, or No Return always have the keenest o' booty to snatch." His companion retained an awkward silence. "Booty is treasure, Z. Booty is _treasure,"_ the lunatic reaffirmed the lie. "Now, let's seek the barrow wench with the hot stash. _Treasure,_ I remind you," he cut off Z'lupe's approaching question with a menacing, pointing finger aimed blindly at her. There quarreling was not conducted in the proper locale and evil was stirred in the ruckus. From out the sand broke a pair of giant pincers, blocking their path. With it rose many sets of long, thin armored legs before a long, plated body dripped off the grits. "Oh, no! It's a desert-" 

_"Lobster?"_ the girl blurted out upon its finned tail shaking off the sand upon it. 

"What were ya expectin' to find out in the middle of the dry and waterless desert?" Pivoting a finger against his temple, the maniac flicked it off. "Duh!" Lowering his arm, a small blade slid out of his sleeve. With the knife in hand, a suicide dive was taken onto the crustacean's back with a flurry of futile stabs and cuts against the shell. 

"Don't you have something... bigger or," Kelly searched for the word, "better than that?" The fiend hung his head in shame as the monstrous arthropod bucked to rid itself of him. "Oh, what? What happened to the war hammer I got you?" 

"'Tis in the shop," he meekly explained, "again." 

"I keep on telling you," the exasperated Kelly moaned, "that there is better ways to crack nuts. Seriously, it's a weapon of epic power. It shouldn't be used for such trivial matters." Ignoring his female colleague, who refused to offer any assistance with the bout on count of "learning him for being so stupid," Greenborne cupped on hand in another and began chanting. The heavens darkened more as cloud gathered, dropping a violent rain. Not a droplet splashed on the thirsting ground as the watery bullets all fell into an unseen basin above the maniac, rising in a tall column. Splicing a second invocation into the craft, a searing ring of fire formed at the base, blazing white, and several other spots up the shaft. Rolling of the beast's back, the hold over the pillar severed, and it crashed to the earth, passing through the smoldering circle of flame. As the water passed through, its temperature rocketed, dousing the desert lobster in boiling waves. When the steaming tower had passed, it was quick to vaporize from the parched ground and now still crustacean. 

"Was all that really necessary?" implored Z'lupe with a arched brow. "You could have slain it a hundred different, less spectacular ways." 

"The Steam Stream was so worth it, doll," affirmed the mad man. "Besides, now we can set up camp fer the night _and_ have dinner already prepared." She was speechless. He actually did something stunning and intelligent for once. Before she could compliment this momentous event, Greenborne set the beast on fire and to cook a meager plate of beans. 

"That's more like it," she sighed, not knowing if this was for the better or not. 


	11. At Doom

At Doom

A cloudless sky awaited the two wayfarers upon the break of day, leaving little mercy from the scalding sun. The night was long, grueling, and, above all, disappointing.

"Did ya stay watch all night?" scolded Greenborne.

"Like I would trust you?" Z'lupe informed. She did not refer to his ability to keep watch or keep the two safe, sadly.

"Well, if ya were a bit looser, then we wunna be havin' this conversation, now would we?" poorly rationed Bimblesnaff, still upset that the night did not go as he desired.

"Grow up," she muttered, readying her armament for the long day ahead. "It's not like I even really wanted to come out to this dump for some alleged treasure and guaranteed bodily harm."

"Hey, no one made ya come here," he snapped. Kelly exploded.

"Yes, _someone_ did," she grumbled through clenched teeth. "You! You threatened to kill my family."

"Pfft, that dinna mean ya had to do anythin', though," the lunatic dismissed as he donned a pair of tinted goggles. "'Tisn't like their lives influence your decisions in life."

"You know," she enlightened, "some people are not horrible monsters and care for others." He grinned most demonically.

"An' I ain't people." The pair continued on as though no tension or deep longings to murder the other existed. Z'lupe was quite use to the Fiend's behavior, so she merely recorded the event in her list of reasons to ration whether saving his life, should the opportunity rest on her hands, was actually worth it. They took a winding path between the dunes to avoid the rushing sands thrown by the distant blades. It was an easier course, even if Bimblesnaff pointed out how two mounds resembled a posterior every few minutes. Their less than peaceful stroll was eventually interrupted.

"Do ya feel that?" the maniac questioned after abruptly stopping.

"No," Kelly replied flatly with a roll of her eyes, "and neither can you."

"That wasn't a pass... for once," he stated, equally as amazed as she was. "Do ya feel that in the ground?" Before she could answer, something large broke through the sands. As the grains ran from its form, the lumbering figure was seen, all but its head. This made sense in that it did not possess one.

The giant let out a deafening wail, thin and piercing from an unknown orifice. Its body bulged with brawn, particularly on its thick arms, each wielding a twisted sickle. It had no neck or head and not even a mark for where one had been cut from it. Its bronzed flesh was tinted with blue speckles. More congregated on its outer body where there were also thorny protrusions. Its body remained largely exposed, save a modest loin cloth fashioned from camel hide.

"Well, _that_ certainly ain't a camel toe!" Bimblesnaff had no choice but to convulsively blurt out on the matter in an inappropriate moment which allotted him little time to flee from the swung weapon. Clutching the amulet around his neck, a golden disc set on a silver diamond, he thrust it up high and called out for power from on high. "Amulet of the Sky, Daybreak." Unleashing a burst of light, he now clutched a glowing dagger in his hand, the blade of which sheened golden. Ducking under the second arched edge of the unknown beast, he leapt into the air as the first came crashing back down. Landing nimbly upon its handle, the lunatic dashed up the monster's arm to its flat top. Holding high the dagger, a column of the Sun's light intensified around the confrontation, shrinking in closer and brighter with each passing moment, draining the scene of any light until only a blinding line extended to the weapon's point. Dropping to a knee, the knife was plunged deep through the creature's top, burying it to the hilt. Day flooded back to the area in a brilliant wave. The titan stood motionless as the clouds of unsettled dust swirled and slowly disappeared. Pulling out the blade, Greenborne struck a triumphant pose before getting struck off by the giant.

"Okay, that was pointless," commented Z'lupe as she drew out a crossbow to actually deal with the situation to some effect. The headless being turned, scratching the prick on its top, to presumably see the woman crouched with her arches bent, lined with the images of wolves. A rapid swarm of bolts rained from the archer, their heads howling like feral beasts as they cut through the air. Hitting her mark several fold, the arrows barely produced a trickle on the colossus' thick skin. Marching forward through the volley, it smashed down the double sickles, scarring the earth where Kelly previously took aim.

"See? It ain't so easy," mocked the maniac with his tongue stuck out before a shot whizzed by his head.

"Whoops, sorry," Kelly malignantly snarled. "I meant to hit. Well, alright, Mr. Smart Guy, how do you suppose we deal with this thing, then?" Darting her eyes back to the man for an answer, she only barely caught his heel as he made a frantic dash away, around a corner. "Figures." Holstering her arsenal, she attempted to follow in kind only to have her path, and retreat, cut off by the curved blades. "Figures," she repeated with more despair. Releasing its weapons, the giant cupped hand in fist, raised high, to deliver the final, crushing blow.

"Nightfall," was shouted from behind the gigas as the comparatively diminutive Greenborne bound from a nearby dune with his knife raised, emitting a black haze as its blade turned silver, longer, and curved. The crescent edge was dug into the titan's back and dragged down until empty space below was reached. Upon landing crouched on the earth, he whirled about in his stooped position, gashing the tendons in both legs of the giant, toppling it. Twirling the dagger about his finger, it returned to its original state and was stuck in his belt. Victorious, he awaited thanks from his companion. Waiting longer, he heard no praise, only a faint mumbling. Turning, he spotted the twitching, fine legs of Z'lupe sticking out from beneath the felled monster.

"Smooth," he could barely make out between all the cursing. "Real smooth."


	12. Into Doom

Into Doom

After patching up the wounds he inadvertently caused on Z'lupe, as well as the wounds she _advertly_ caused on him for the inadvertent wounds, she and Greenborne continued on their aimless adventure.

"The way I look at it," Bimblesnaff tried to ration, holding his hands over his face like a coward, expecting her "rebuttal", "if the bodily harm part is already outta the way, then all we have left to look forward to is the treasure." Kelly was swift to respond. It was less verbal, however, and more fist. Luckily, the Fiend still had a drumstick left from a pheasant. For reasons not entirely understood by man, the consumption of food could swiftly and fully seal wounds and restore wellness as an entirely separate function from providing nutritional subsistence. This was not the case at all times and certain foods would cure wounds more than others, following a patternless dictation. From his personal experiences, the lunatic had learned that the most reconstructive of all foodstuffs was peanut butter. Unfortunately, it would be some time before it was invented, casting suspicious doubt on the scientific process he used to reach his conclusion.

"Huzzah!" cried out the maniac. "We have made it at long last."

"Made it? Since when where we going somewhere?" questioned Z'lupe, more frustrated than she was previously.

"Why, to the gaping Mouth o' Doom, ya silly girl," he chuckled playfully, as though she should have known the name he just made up for the location. Looking forward, she saw nothing. It was only dunes to her left and dunes to her right. Looking ahead _once more,_ she stared into an endless abyss of black surrounded by jagged stalagmites and other rocky formations that bore a resemblance to a foreboding maw.

"Nothing about that title or look sound inviting," she cringed. "With what we've seen outside, I can't imagine what infernal beings are in it..."

"Oh, stop bein' such a sissy. Why, from what I hear, which largely dinna come from m' head," the one in green inspired little confidence, "that most o' what lies in there is just cute gerbils."

"These, by any change, wouldn't happen to be the, oh, I don't know," his female companion falsely searched for words, "the _Devil Gerbil's of Doom who possess laser vision?"_

"Oh, now, that's just crazy talk," dismissed Greenborne. "Those things are just outrageous rumors made up to scare people. Laser-eyed rodents ain't real. Purely myth."

"Not real, huh?" she challenged. "Not real like headless giants and desert lobsters who pop out of the ground and try to kill you, or not real as in your chances with someone who is breathing?"

"Exactly, 'tis complete madness that someone would think such thin's," he agreed without further clarification to his choice. "Now then, ya go ahead o' me for... safety reasons. Somethin' could try and get ya from behind."

"And this 'something' is named 'you'?" Z'lupe dryly put. Reaching into his pocket, Bimblesnaff pulled out a small vial.

"Oh, look, a bottle o' antidote," he said cheerfully. "And 'tis addressed to yer mum. Gee, why is that, ya think, Kelly?" With a roll of her eyes and a heavy sigh, she trudged into the cavern entrance.

"I checked that bottle last night, by the way," she told while walking in front of him, "and I know it's empty."

"I can't help it," he mumbled as she walked away. "Antidote is just _too tasty."_

Upon entering the domain, after the girl's lead, he was disappointed not only to the fact that there were no cuddly critters to bombard him with heat beams or any stockade of antidotes to quench his rampant thirst. The exterior told lies to the inside, holding a shape that looked more sculpted than formed naturally, likely forged from the tireless effort of countless deadly yet adorable gazes of enslaved gerbils. Beyond the course entryway, the corridor narrowed and refined to a slim walkway. With no light from outside reaching that far in, glyphs engraved into the middle of the walls glowed an eerie green, providing enough luminescence to see shapes in the dark surroundings.

"We should prolly hold each other's hands," Greenborne suggested, "elsewise we might get separated, and who knows by what." 

"Do you honestly think that parting from you is on my list of bad things?" she prodded with an unseen smirk. Awaiting any type of response from her fellow adventurer, there was nothing, no snappy comeback or physical retaliation against her posterior. Turning back, she did not see his scrawny form outlined in the eerie glow as the markings continued uninterrupted down the hallway. Calling out his name, it only echoed back at her, bringing with it a low rumble. "Aw, that is never a good sign," Kelly groaned. "It's never a rumble then followed by mysterious cake." The "mysterious cake" line was a phrase she borrowed from Bimblesnaff, which he fabricated as overcompensation in order to keep the unexplained baked good from her knowledge. The continued lie and upkeep of the story was worth every delectable bite. Sweets related expressions aside, Z'lupe was in a predicament.

As the walls trembled, she could not see anything that could be the source until the glyphs began to move. Peeling from their surface, they wrapped around the frame of some invisible being. The new skin tightened around a stout form, square and blocky. What it exactly was remained to be seen, which was not possible under the present conditions. Not wishing to risk any chance to whether it could be friendly, she fumbled for her crossbow and filled the air with bolts. Each of the howling arrows whizzed past the phantom figure before it charged, stooping to all four appendages.

The guardian was undoubtably spectral in nature, meaning her chances of physically harming it were out of question. Unfortunately, the abrupt nature of her recruitment by Greenborne, or, as the law tended to call it, abduction, did not allow her time to properly prepare all types of gear. In her defense, her arrows make short work of her foes on most occasions. The denizens of this location seemed to have something against them, however, quite unlike the poppable Bladder Beings of Belgoch Lagoon. Those guys had a third eye that, if punctured, would cause instant death.

Quickly pulling back her arsenal, she cowered behind her shield with a splitting shriek as the dungeon apparition drew nearer. With a heavy thud and a sharp cry, she found herself still alive and the attacker recovering from a daze, best she could figure, on the floor. She then recalled that her shield was enchanted against magicks, and, proof that she had spent too much time around Bimblesnaff, fooled herself into thinking that she remembered such all along. With a makeshift weapon against the assailant in hand, both to be exact, she slammed the square shield overhead onto the stunned phantasm. The bright letters did not suffer the abuse long and were quick to scatter in a swirling display. Too experienced to think that was the end, Kelly kept watch on the lights as they congregated to another spot, reshaping a new form.

When they grew to settle, they had become a sharp winged creature with giant talons, perched high in the way. Quick as silver, it dived at Z'lupe, striking her protection at an angle that freed her hands of it. Looping around for another swoop, the girl responded swiftly and rolled to her back. As the flying guardian came closer, she tossed up her legs, which had the enchanted shield leaning against them, which hurtled the square of metal into its path. It collided with an explosion of fragmented markings. The broken pieces faded away, and what was left regrouped for another attempt. Swarming to the ground, a less than impressive quadruped was constructed. With a lack of glyphs to complete the skin, the glowing beast was left lame, an unforeseen happening. With a single, boastful laugh, she caught and smashed her shield against the floor, braced to her arm, and touched her forehead with her other hand. The field on her family crest began to glow, not too different than the markings, but blue rather than green.

"You call that a hound? _Vivet meus genus!"_ Drawing power from her past, her ancestry, and her blood, the heraldic beast from the shield sprung to life. The ghostly image of the Enfield raced forward, shattering the remainder of the intact glyphs. The projection of the Enfield was an invocation of the Kelly family's ancestral spirits that shook the very ether of those who opposed a living one. With a carnal host, this effect was normally less dramatic than those against raw essence. She also claimed to have remembered this one all along.

"See why we shunna get separated, Z?" Z'lupe jumped with a girlish scream, which was befitting since she was a girl, before smacking Greenborne across the face. "Hey, calm down, 'tis only I." Pulling out a shining dagger, Daybreak, he illuminated the lightless corridor. He claimed that he remembered having a torch-like blade since they entered the darkness, of course.

"I know that, you jerk," she informed. "How long have you been there? Making me fend for myself. That's just wrong!" He shrugged.

"Now ya dun want us to split up, do ya?" His teeth flashed in a sinister grin. Following a low blow and a shot to the back of his neck, she waited for her light source to keep up with her deeper progression. "I knew ya'd see it m' way," Bimblesnaff wheezed. Thankfully, he still had a wing of that pheasant left over.


	13. In Doom

In Doom

Golden light etched out the straight hallway, revealing the ghostly impressions of archaic writing. A gleaming dagger was held ahead of Greenborne as he and his thought lady friend Z'Lupe sought the prize he imagined would be located at the end of the hardships. His speculations were based on nothing more than common trends. Throughout all time, beings of immense power, mortal or greater, would abandon objects of incredible value for no reason at the end of a trail lined with dangers where they could neither utilize nor appreciate it. The concept normally would take full hold over the mastermind of the pointless scheme after the piece was well buried behind the countless threats. Then it would be the goal of foolhardy treasure seekers to waste away theirs lives upon seeking them, most suffering cruel and painful deaths before the agonizing and slow passing of an unfulfilled life claimed them.

"Must you speak of the terrible dying so often?" Kelly scolded Bimblesnaff for actually saying all those things, repeatedly, as they made their way. "It isn't helping lift my spirit about this futile endeavor." As what seemed to be the fifth hour of a straight march, she questioned, "How much longer do you think it will be?"

"Until time itself runs out," an ominous voice boomed the way that only an ominous voice could. "For you are in the clutches of _Doom!"_

"That wasn't funny, 'Snaff," groaned Z'lupe.

"Yes, 'twas," chuckled the lunatic, "but 'twasn't I that spoke it." The mysterious voice broke out in a nefarious chortle. 

"Fools! You know not the evils that await you further!" 

"Now, wait just a minute here," boldly demanded the maniac, "what 'bout what bounty 'waits us further?" The voice did not respond for a moment.

"There... is not any," it finally informed. "Doom only has to offer tragedy and suffering."

"What? Then screw this!" shouted the girl. "We aren't going through all this for nothing."

"Aw, no, now, come on," begged the voice. "No one has journeyed through my tunnels in ages. Will you not stay?"

"Well, okay," agreed Greenborne for the both of them without consent, "but ya better at least got somethin' fer us when we get to the end."

"There is no end to _Doom!_ Your plight will be eternal."

"I said _somethin',"_ sternly demanded the Four Finger Fiend. They heard some fumbling, of what they would never know.

"I think I have a key chain," the voice rang with the words robbing it of all its mystery and effect. "It is pretty cool." 

"Oo, I dun even know what one o' those is," fancied the man. "'Tis a deal!"

"Excellent! Now proceed to the greater evils."

"You mean like the gerbils with beam vision?" Kelly grumbled, considering abandoning Bimblesnaff right there.

"Oh ho ho , if you think that is bad," the voice greedily taunted, "just wait until you learn what comes from their other end." It broke into a chorus of malicious laughter.

"Is it poo?" interrupted Greenborne. The terrible guffaw ceased.

"Well, yes, it is defecation," admitted the sinister voice, ever losing its edge despite the same demeanor in its tone by the very fact of the words it was being forced to say. "But it is more than any regular feces. It is horrible stuff, _sick stuff."_

"Ya talk a big game for an incorporeal voice," the Fiend thought he mocked before reconsidering and adding, "which, I guess, is all ya can do. _But still,_ brin' it on, sinister force of malice! Let's see what ya got!" Bracing himself, he readied for anything that could be thrown against him, watching all angles and for the slightest movement. Over time his muscles loosened their tense until he leaned on the stone wall. "Well?"

"Oh, did you want those unspeakable evils now?" apologized the voice. "Thing is there seems to be some problems with my ungodly combatants right now. Could you please wait must a moment." 

"Oh, by all means," politely agreed Greenborne. "'Twill give me time to ready m'self 'gainst their deadly onslaught." His idea of preparation involved a lot of staring at Z'lupe.

"Will you cut that out?" she forcefully asked. "I'm sure you're going to be living to see those again, so stop unless you want me to take care of the 'living' part here and now."

"Oh, I know I wonna die," he agreed, still gawking blankly until smacked across the face.

"If you ask me-"

"Which I didn't," quickly interjected the green clad man.

"-this 'evil' force is more pathetic than threatening," she continued with her fist in Bimblesnaff's mouth to prevent any further interruptions. "I didn't expect the most horrible of the things we would encounter here to be something that didn't try to kill us, at least by traditional means."

"What are ya gettin' at?" questioned the lunatic, or at least would have if knuckles were not pressed against his teeth.

"This thing isn't evil, _it's lonely,"_ she explained, "and with good cause. I say we just leave it to find an eviler evil." Her own words finally sank in on herself. "What is wrong with me? Are you contagious?" The maniac was still reluctant to depart "their new friend," so Kelly had to change his mind. "Well, then, I guess I'll just go and defeat the sultry demonesses by myself. I sure hope they aren't too strong, though, because they might try and overpower me and make me-"

"Less talkin', more demonessin'," shouted Greenborne, somehow nearly out of sight down the tunnel already when he was just behind Z'lupe not half a moment ago.

"You know, I was going to say," she expounded while trying to catch up, "that they would make me a sacrifice to their hellish lord. I don't know what you were thinking."

"Still worth it," he hollered back with an ever increasing pace.

"That is true," the voice confirmed. It then realized that it was alone and sobbed. "They were the only friends I ever had. Well, them and death zombie."

"Death zombie here," the self announced undead proclaimed, wrecking through the solid wall with ease, proof of the evil strength residing in its rotting flesh. 

"Oh, great, sure, come _after_ they leave," piped the voice. "Shame on you, death zombie. Shame!" 

"Death zombie sorry," it squeaked as it retreated back through the hole it just made, stacking back the bricks.


	14. Doomed

Doomed

A mighty column of lava rose up from the bubbling pool, stretching to the high ceiling in the expansive cavern. Writhing and dripping, a series of chitinous spikes emerged from both sides as a single, gleaming eye revealed itself on top. Whipping around its molten body, the magma lash struck at the flimsy, suspended bridge to which two humans clung to for their very lives. The female of the pair kept a steady stream of bolts flying from her crossbow.

"This sure was sudden," she shouted, raising her voice above the ungodly shriek of the fiery worm. "How did we go from a narrow corridor to burning pool below an empty expanse? And who built this piece of junk here? And why did they use wood _over fire?"_ Z'lupe took her eye off her target for a moment to check on her ally. "You plan to jump in any time soon, Greenborne?"

"Well, ain't ya just full of questions today?" he snipped. With an arm wrapped tightly around the suspension, Bimblesnaff tried to steady himself and his blade. His enchanted dagger, currently throwing off a golden glow, was having its tip aimed toward the beast. As the bridge swayed wildly, a few of the beams he fired were far off.

"Way too high, 'Snaff," she informed, sending off more arrows to be melted to nothing. "And what is a heat blast going to do against that thing? Cool it down?" Ignoring her, the rays continued to stray from their mark. Withdrawing the knife, the lunatic sculpted out in his hands an orb of water. "Oh, yes, that will surely end it," sarcastically praised Kelly. "After it is slain, I will give myself to you." With a fiendish smile, the only kind he could give, the sphere was hurtled at the magma lash, falling too high like the rest of his efforts. This was _his_ target, however. Within seconds, an avalanche had fallen upon and buried the flaming worm. The many rays he had fired heated up the rocks in the ceiling, and the water had cooled them down rapidly, causing cracking around an already fractured surface. The ancient blemish was noted by the maniac long ago, and he had worked to exploit it all this time. Still flashing his yellow teeth at Z'lupe, she stated, "The rocks felled it, not the water, so, technically, I owe you nothing."

"Do ya always hide behind self delusion?"

"In cases like this," responded she, "yes." Returning their weapons to their holsters, the uncertain bridge was transversed. Waiting for them at the end was an ominous black hole with a familiarity. "Oh, great, remember this thing, 'Snaff?"

"I sure do," he confirmed. "This is the hole that killed m' father." She turned slowly, meeting his stern look with her blank stare.

"You never met your father," Z'lupe made light of.

"Well, technically, 'twould be true," he accepted, "but I just know he's dead and that's the scum that killed 'em." She shook her head in disgust. She could press him further, but it would only be risking her own sanity. Pulling the oaf she was stuck with along, they entered the dark passage.

Emerging from the other side, the scenery took another drastic change as did their passage to the chamber of fire. The walls had turned from drab, rigid stone to red, dripping, and throbbing. Bones of creatures recognized and questionable studded the surfaces and highlighted points of interest.

"This place smells like death," gagged Z'lupe.

"This place smells like home," pleasantly chirped Greenborne.

"Did you grow up in some morbidly twisted morgue where the dead were strewn out against the walls?" she put to him through the cape held over her face. 

"No," he pouted, wiping the tears from out his goggles, "that was next door. We could only enjoy the scent." 

"Why do I even ask?" she groaned, more sickened. 

"I always assumed ya hated yerself," he gleefully answered.

"Why do I still bother asking rhetorical questions?" After planting her fist in the Fiend's jaw, she added, "Yes, I am aware how stupid that was to do." 

"Pardon the intrusion," cut in a booming yet surprisingly polite voice. They turned to find the most frightening image they had ever seen. A massive, bulging corpse stooped down to fit its giant body into the large passage way. Bones were exposed with stripped veins entwining them. One of its eyes hung out from a rotted hole in its neck. Other carcasses were meshed into its form to make it larger and more hideous. "Death zombie is seeking two people to brutally maim. Have you seen two people? One is a lady, and the other is an unlady."

"'Tis yer lucky day, er, death zombie," piped in Bimblesnaff. "It just so happens that two people were visitin' a magma lash back ways there. Just down in there, and I'm sure ya'll find 'em." With a thanking nod, the terrible being shattered the shadowy gate separating the two realms and followed the given directions.

"Don't you have the slightest bit of remorse?"

"If I did," the lunatic told, "I would sell it fer more evil cunnin'." The unexpected soon followed: approaching footsteps, big ones.

"Death zombie no find them there." It was the same towering beast, now dripping with lava. Its immersion had done nothing at all to faze it. 

"Uh... What? Ya mean to say ya went to _that_ lava pool?" Bimblesnaff acted amazed, although part of him truly was. "No, ya have to go to the _other_ one. Way back. Far, far, _far_ back."

"But only one hot pit here," stated the undead. "Death zombie know that true."

"Are ya callin' me a liar?" he asked with hurt in his voice. "That sure wunna be nice at all."

"Okay, death zombie go see." As the force of destruction marched away, Greenborne shot a quick glance at Kelly, who gave him a look that could kill. 

"Yeah, I'm a bastard."


	15. Deeper in Doom

Deeper in Doom

"So what horrible abomination do ya believe to lurk in this grim abode?" Greenborne addressed to his companion in reference to the seemingly living walls of bone and flesh. Before she had the chance to respond, the pair found their path blocked by a hulking, scaly man with fins on his head.

"A friendly abomination, I'd hope," Z'lupe prayed in vain.

"Don't fret," hissed the hellish beast. "I am quite friendly. But, I do have a _slight_ problem where I... kill... people." Its squinty eyes could barely be seen darting about beneath its ripped bulk.

"Dun that make ya sorta unfriendly," the human fiend put to the inhuman fiend, "the killin' and all?" 

"Wouldn't that make _you_ unfriendly?" returned the creature. "I can smell the stench of blood on you." 

"Hey now! Most o' that blood is m' own and- no, wait." The lunatic paused to count out some figures in his mind. "Yeah, by now, most o' what ya're smellin' is mine."

"Oh, well, then, that was rude of me to presume, I bid you farewell." In a small burst of smoke, the horrid monster had vanished.

"Just once," groaned Kelly as she rubbed her temples, "I would like something normal to happen." The smoke suddenly drifted back together as the abomination reappeared and took her hand.

"Oh, and it was nice meeting you." Just as it did before, the scaled beast departed.

"... so," started up Bimblesnaff, "would bizarrely polite acts from monstrous beings count as normal?" She shrugged indifferently.

"With the way things have been going," she hated to admit, "it was sadly more regular in comparison." The truth to her own statement finally came into realization. "... Ew. Um, anywise," she tried to steer the conversation into a slightly more pleasing direction, "where did you even learn of this dungeon from?" Opening his jacket, Greenborne pulled out a dusty tome and handed it to Z'lupe. "The Heart of Doom?" she read from the cover's cryptic lettering. "Huh. Where did you get this relic from?" 

"Oh, ya know," dodged the maniac, "around." 

"It says here," Kelly continued to read, now turned to the inside of the cover, "that the book is the property of the grand magi Pokry."

"Well, I never met 'em in m' life, fer sure-"

"And there's a bloody hand print on the binding," she butt in, "with only _four_ fingers."

"I dun really see what this all has to do wit' me," he innocently proclaimed, placing a four fingered hand upon his chest. "Besides, Z, I always got someone's blood on m' hands. That dun mean a thin'. Ol' Pokry may be dead, beats me, but wunna by these hands... fer once. Some Ol' Fart gave me the book. Well, threw, more like it. Short crazy guy with bulging eyes. Mumbled some stuff as he ridded it, too. Just crazy banter, though." 

"Did this babble of his include the words 'certain death', 'crazy to go', or 'I'm not stupid'?" the girl felt like inquiring.

"What? Ya were there, too?" She buried her face in her hands, wanting to cry.

"So did those pages offer any insight to this realm, other than it being a death trap?" she spoke up after holding back the urge to weep or slaughter.

"Nah, that's the gist o' it," the lunatic grunted. "All who enter will perish, no chance to survive, dun go to the area where it is, so on. That was the map I used to find here even," he, oddly, proudly stated.

"The thing _only_ tells of the dangers surrounding this place," Z'lupe grumbled, "and you used it to _find_ here?" 

"Yep, I know," the Fiend continued to brag. "I am so smart. No one else was brave enough to come here and get the value plunder wit'in."

"But there _is_ no treasure," the archer growled. "You already know that. Hell, the ominous presence that looms over this place told you such itself!"

_"It is true,"_ the voice spoke up for once in a long while.

"Spare me yer words of truth," dismissed Bimblesnaff. "Ya wun be sayin' such once I get ass deep in golden booty." Kelly stopped following for a moment.

"... Ew. Why is today so disgusting?"

"I dun get what ya think is so disgustin'," Greenborne voiced his thoughts, proving that they did, in fact, exist.

"Besides the fact that we're in bleeding walls," she pointed out, "which I mean literally, I might begin to see things your way; however, I... just got innards on my head, didn't I?" Peering over at the globule that fell from the ceiling slowly dripping over Z'lupe's cranium, his eyes bulged as it began to squirm of its own will. 

"Yes, just some randomly fallin' organs, nothin' more than that," the lunatic lied away, trying to rise over the mixed urges of panic and laughter that might give away the potentially dangerous and humorous situation. Before he could decide just how to react, he was thwacked on the noggin. "Hey, what was that fer?" 

"It's biting my hair," she informed, peeling the slimy something off her scalp, "and I know you knew something about. Jerk."

"Ya dun know that I know anythin'," stated Bimblesnaff confidently.

"Normally, I would agree with you on that one." Lobbing the flesh bag at the maniac's head, she continued on their way, enjoying the girlish screams incited behind herself.


	16. Ultimate Doom

Ultimate Doom  
The pair trekked through the dripping caverns of twisted flesh until they came to face a horrific structure. Before them stood a mighty skull, its jaws held apart as though wailing in anguish. Green flames flickered in the black pits of its eye sockets. All beyond the teeth was untouched by light, as not even it chose to enter the portal of pure evil.  
"Well, this sure looks promising," sarcastically spat Z'lupe.  
"Dun it?" cheerfully agreed Bimblesnaff, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. As he began to step forward, he was choked on his own necklace. "Gyak! Hey, hey, now, Z. If ya're scared an' all, I understand, but hold me tight, then, not that."  
"No, stupid, that wasn't what I was doing," she blandly droned out as though she had said it a thousand times before when really it was two thousand. Still with her arm held out rigidly, now no longer pulling in Greenborne but pushing to keep him at bay as he tried to reach out to her, she continued with her, what should have been, obvious explanation. "Doesn't his gateway seem a little _too_ creepy, even for this place? I don't like the looks of it."   
"Oh, now be rational," ironically stated the Four Finger Fiend. "Just come to me and all will be right." Kelly's stare tensed. "Er, and by which I mean the good treasures are always kept behind the scariest doors. Only a fool would want to go in there." Her stare continued to grow fiercer. "What? I ain't a fool. I'm shrewd fer seein' through the deception." By this point, her gaze could not worsen any more unless flames were to leap from her eyes. "Well, I'm still goin'." Haughtily turning up his nose, he marched into the black abyss. Only a brief few moments passed before the lunatic could be heard screaming, _"What the crap! Aaarrrggg!"_ Rolling her eyes, Kelly braced her crossbow in hand and charge out after him. Expecting the worst things imaginable, she was blinded by a dazzling light and haunted by the sound of... birds chirping?  
"What the crap?" she echoed. "We're... outside?" She looked about the grassy mead they had emerged onto, filled with colorful flowers beneath the warm, blue sky. Behind them stood a jagged rock face with a gaping, black hole in its side.  
"Seriously, what gives?" demanded Greenborne. "I wanted death an' treasure!"   
"What? You two actually went through all of it? Get out!" exclaimed the ominous voice from no where. "Most people gave up long before you did. You must really be stupid."  
"Wait, all of that was... for nothing? At all?" Z'lupe pulled out some of her hair. "How long were we wasting time in there? Maybe a week or two? And then it just ends? This abruptly? You said it had no end."  
"Well, yeah... but that just sounds scarier than the truth," confessed the presence. "No one wants to endanger themselves in the finite tunnels of Doom. Few enough want to try it when it is infinite."  
"Wait, maybe this is just a hurtle within the twisted underworld," Z'lupe tried to dream up. "What if one of the most terrible horrors is lulling us into a false sense of security with a guise of the real world when, really, we are still in those dank halls and only think we are free."   
"But... we'd essentially still be free," commented the fiend as the scenario hurt his brain to think about.  
"Yeah, that ... does not really make much sense," agreed the voice, "although it would have been better than just a plain exit. Geez, I wish there was something like that here. It might make Doom not entirely suck. I do not suppose you could just pretend that is what happened? Make this fun again?"  
"So," broke in Bimblesnaff, "ya're an ass?"  
"Yeah, pretty much," admitted the voice. "Well, be sure to come back. Bring your friends."  
"Joke's on ya! I dun got any," informed the maniac with a cutting edge, masking the deep pain he felt upon realizing how true his own words were. Luckily, he knew how to counter the disheartening sense of failure.  
_"Let go of those!"_  
"Shut up, Z," he snapped at his manhandled partner. "Now, this is what I call a happy endin'."


End file.
